


Color in Your Cheeks

by jotunblood



Series: Color in Your Cheeks [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual Character, Clothed Sex, Come Eating, Developing Relationship, Dominant Rey, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Multi, Praise Kink, Sexual Tension, Submissive Kylo Ren, Switch Finn, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunblood/pseuds/jotunblood
Summary: While searching for a new base, Finn, Rey, and Ben overnight on Tatooine, and enjoy a rare evening of peace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earandir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earandir/gifts).



> Hey everyone! This is my first stab at finnreylo, which I absolutely adore. I have more lined up, so I guess we can consider this the start of a series. Well, more a collection of related one-shots than anything, but the relationship will be progressing along the way.
> 
> Also, it’s worth noting that this takes place in the same universe as Crown of Scorn. However, it’s not entirely necessary to read that first. It’d give background on the character’s dynamics, but as long as you know the following:
> 
> -Ben has defected and been with the Resistance for a while now  
> -Reylo is established  
> -Finn is very close to them both
> 
> you should be fine! Thank you so much in advance for reading, and please let me know what you think. This one turned out dirtier than originally intended, so I’m anxious to see how y’all feel!

“He thinks of you,” Rey whispered as Finn slipped from the room. The door was still closing behind him when she said it, and likely all that’d kept him from hearing was that she’d said it in the shell of Ben’s ear. “Often, actually.”

More discreet, or simply less intoxicated-- between the three of them, Rey had drank most of the first jug of wine-- Ben didn’t acknowledge her until the man’s steps had begun to recede.

“I’d hope so,” he teased, tilting his head back to look at her. “We spend most of our time with him, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Rey chuckled, showing her teeth, and took another swig of wine. “That’s not how I meant.”

The three of them had been on the move for a month, charged to sniff out a new base. Or at least, new to the Resistance. Their resources hadn’t ballooned like enlistment, and finding the shell of an old compound would be preferable to an empty tract of land.

Beyond that, however, they'd been given no directive. Carrying only their weapons and what credits could be spared, they set out from Belsavis in search of somewhere to establish themselves anew. The frigid bunker was near capacity again, with supplies and inhabitants’ tempers nearing critical. For comfort as well as sanity’s sake, they needed to expand, and if it meant time away from the cold, the three were happy to spearhead the mission.

They spent weeks hopping planets, setting a lazy course through space. They touched down often, refueling and restocking where they could. Mostly, however, the stops were meant for expeditions. Favoring forested planets for cover-- even here, at the dark rim of nowhere, the Order had spies-- they'd land, mask their ship, and disappear into the brush. It was tiresome, filthy work, but effective. Several abandoned outposts were scouted this way, and by the time their funds were running dry, they'd drafted a list of planets for the General to review. Secluded worlds, gathered under deep, churning forests that the galactic eye rarely pierced. 

It was a thrifty mission, often miserable, but on the other side of it now Ben was proud of the work they’d done. The bases were all remote, but recently established enough to not have been choked out by weeds. Whosever they’d been, they hadn’t been gone long, which was fortunate. Whichever was chosen, Ben didn’t expect it to take more than a week to clear, at which time the teams and supplies could be divided. The most pressing issue would be who was selected to establish the base and who stayed behind; that, he knew, would be a bitter debate. Anywhere was better than that icy rock, and he doubted many would volunteer to stay.

That argument, however, was still days away, and stretched out as he was now-- more full of food and wine than he’d been in weeks-- Ben couldn’t bring himself to fret.

Several days into their return flight, Finn suggested the team take the ship down for a night. It wasn’t time to refuel, nor was the vessel showing signs of damage. Still, days in open space had begun to wear them down. Each was sluggish, more irritable than usual, and their feet ached for solid ground.

_We’ve got enough credits left_ , Finn had said, voice as cloying as a child’s. _Come on, don’t you want a real bed?_

Ben couldn’t deny the appeal of that. Most of their nights had been spent in the underbrush, or cramped in tiny regulation cots. Both made for a miserable night, and they often woke more exhausted than before. If they kept their course, Belsavis was only a few more days away. The beds there were adequate, might even feel luxurious after so long away. Still, there was something alluring about the idea of touching down again: not for scouting or to haggle for supplies, but to simply rest.

The three so rarely had time for that. There’d been a few chances over the course of the trip, but even those had been shot through with latent anxiety. The fear of being heard, or having their fire spotted in the dark; running out of funds or fuel before making it home. This, however, was an opportunity to reset, to have a few hours peace before returning to the chaos of Belsavis. So when Finn’s pout deepened, and he asked again, Ben disengaged the ship’s auto and took it down.

They were over Tatooine, which he supposed was fortunate. The planet had never hosted much of a galactic presence, and the likelihood of them being recognized there was low. Still, they brought their ship down a few miles outside of the village, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. 

Night was falling by then, the heat of the desert giving way to deep chill. Fortunately, they didn’t have to endure it long. They found a hostel quickly, rationed out their remaining credits to pay for a room and food, which they ordered to be brought up. It arrived as they’d finished settling, along with a large, full jug of wine. They hadn’t paid for that, and Ben nearly said as much when the woman delivering it-- the owner, he assumed, as she’d also checked them in-- waved him off.

_Complements_ , she said, _for weary travelers_. She set both the jug and the heaping tray down on the table, then wiped her hands on her apron. _You’ll pay for the next one, though._

More than generous, Ben thought, and his friends seemed to agree. The door had hardly shut behind the woman before they dug in, plating out steaming cuts of meat and stringy vegetables. They nearly drained the first jug with dinner, and each was nursing their last glassful as the table was pushed aside. 

Which was what had let to this: Rey, perched on the edge of the bed, legs spread around Ben’s shoulders. Finn had been in front of him, back resting against the smaller, second cot, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles. A picture of ease; they all were, at least until the jug ran dry. They’d been enjoying the slow encroach of intoxication as they talked, and huffed a little childishly when they realized their supply was spent. The least entangled of the three, Finn offered to replace it, and snatched their bag of credits before dashing out the door. 

“How did you mean it, then?” Ben asked finally, drawing Rey’s attention from her glass.

“Can’t you guess?”

He could try, but that might take longer than Finn’s excursion. Whatever she wanted to say, he doubted she’d have brought it up so soon after the man’s departure if she wasn’t eager to get it out. Setting aside his own glass, he laid his head on the mat between her thighs and motioned for her to explain.

“He thinks,” she began, low and conspiratorial, “about how you look.”

Ben frowned. It wasn’t unusual, of course; he’d received many jabs about his features over the years. Still, Finn had so far been kind, and the thought of him snickering behind his back was unsettling.

“Nothing bad,” Rey amended, guessing the thought. 

“What, then?”

She shrugged, a little sluggish. “Your jaw, mostly, and the curve of your mouth. How your hair would feel in his hands.”

Ben cocked a brow, the curve of his frown deepening. Was this a joke? It was odd, if so. “Are you feeling alright?”

Rey dodging the question, eyes sliding his body as though working through a list.

“He likes your chest, too, and your back. That’s why he watches us spar.” She paused, lifting a hand to brush his shoulder. Her fingers dug in, breaking a knot that travels had formed. Ben hummed, melting into the contact, and she continued. “He likes how the muscles move, and how your sweat catches the light. He thinks you’re beautiful.”

Ben snorted. “He said that?”

“No, but he thinks it a lot. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”

“I don’t make a habit of spying on my friends,” he said flatly. “And neither should you.”

Especially not over something so personal. If Finn really thought as much-- and Ben wasn’t convinced he did-- the man would be mortified to learn she’d been listening.

“I don’t spy,” she said, a little defensive. “He’s just...loud.” She tilted her head, eyes scrunching curiously. Not for the first time, he was reminded of a large, predatory cat. “Have you seriously never heard him?”

“No,” he assured. “Nothing like that, anyway.”

He’d caught the occasional blip from the man: a stray emotion or thought before obligingly tuning out. It was a skill that came with practice. Catching the thoughts of others was easy; filtering was a little more difficult. Rey would master it herself eventually, provided she ever lost her taste for prying.

The door swung open, interrupting the thought. Finn hurried through, another hefty jug in tow, sloshing a bit of wine over the rim.

“Sorry,” he said, relocking the door. “It’s later than we thought, I guess. Took me forever to find a kitchen maid.”

“It’s alright,” Rey said, her casual tone belying their previous conversation. “We kept busy.”

She squeezed his shoulder, digging the heel of her hand into another knot. He groaned when it gave, a little louder with the slick of wine. Finn’s step faltered at the sound, though he recovered quickly. But not before something unreadable lit behind his eyes.

_See?_ Rey fed into his mind, so suddenly that Ben almost jumped. _He liked that._

_That doesn’t mean anything_ , he said back, and that was true enough. A knee-jerk reaction was hardly substantiation. _Perhaps you’ve had enough to drink._

She snorted aloud, but the noise escaped Finn’s notice. The man was settling, careful not to spill any more as he reclaimed his seat.

“Anyone need a refill?”

Rey called for one, reaching over Ben to pass her cup. Finn filled it, then pulled back and nodded to the man.

“What about you?”

Ben hummed, sliding his own cup across the floor. While Finn poured, Rey slipped back in.

_Brush his hand when he gives it back._

_What?_ He weighed the consequences of taking her wine. _Why?_

_Why not? If you don’t believe me, it shouldn’t matter._

He didn’t believe it, and it didn’t matter. Still: _You’re in a strange mood._

_Humor me._

Rey pressed her thighs to his shoulders, trailing a hand lower down his back. She dug her thumb into his spine, dragging up the tender line. He bit his lip, swallowing an embarrassing sound. It was a dirty trick, a weakness she’d found one night, but he couldn’t help falling for it. It felt good, having her toy with all the tender spots she could reach, and if she wanted to play a game...well. Rey had indulged him before, and she was right: if he didn’t believe it, what did it matter?

Finn cleared his throat, snagging Ben’s attention. He was holding out the cup-- for how long, Ben couldn’t guess-- eyeing the two of them suspiciously. He couldn’t have heard, but he was familiar enough with their habits to guess they’d been communicating.

“Everything ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ben said quickly, soothing the man’s worry and reaching belatedly for the cup. “Thank you.”

He closed his fingers around the other man’s when he took it, and Finn tensed under the contact. Odd, he thought. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched. Finn was tactile, and as his relationship with Rey bloomed-- who herself was a creature of contact-- Ben had come to be as well. Something about this, however, seemed to jar the man. The wine, perhaps, or the intimacy of the room.

Finn drew back, cradling the hand for a moment against his chest. His eyes flashed again, the emotion nearer to the surface this time. Without meaning to, Ben caught the scent of it: a flash of chagrin, and something else. Something warmer that darkened his cheeks, and made him clench the fist Ben had brushed.

“Yea,” Finn said, then again, more surely: “Yea, no problem.”

He looked for a moment as if he would say more, but thought better of it. Shaking the urge, he reached for his own cup and took a deep pull. He winced as he gulped the bitter wine, but it did the trick. When he returned his attention to them, his expression was clear.

_What did I tell you?_

Rey’s voice curled in his mind, followed by a fresh peel of pleasure. She was stroking his spine still, playing with the notches. He tongued the edge of a tooth to center himself, then took a sip of wine.

_It still proves nothing._

_No?_ She hummed, rubbing at his shoulders again. _Watch him._

And for the next few hours, he did. The time passed lazily, gummed by wine, and in it they weaved through topics: what they'd seen in the jungles, techniques Rey and Ben planned to practice, snippets of gossip Finn had heard on the docks. It was a meandering conversation, easy to skip out of, and Ben used the fact to his advantage. He pulled back now and then to study the other man, and what he found was somewhat surprising.

Finn loosed as the wine soaked him; that much was to be expected. What wasn’t expected, however, was how he stared. Regardless of which of them he was speaking to, Finn's eyes stayed on Ben. Though in his defense, Rey made it difficult to look elsewhere. Her hands were in constant motion: milking Ben's shoulders and back for sound, sinking into his thick hair. Finn’s eyes followed, tracking her fingers with barely guarded hunger. He _wanted_ ; Ben could sense that much, though what, exactly, was unclear. The details were muddled, tripping over one another as Rey’s hands took new ground. 

Finn’s cheeks darkened with each noise she drew from Ben. His contributions to the conversation took an understandable downturn, skittering to a halt completely when Rey dealt her deathblow. Muttering about the heat, she set her cup aside and made a show of rolling her sleeves. Then, when she finished, she reached to loosen Ben’s tunic as well. Tugging out the strings, she splayed the wings, exposing his collar and chest.

“Better?” she asked.

It was. The night breeze blew through their window, and the kiss of it was a welcome relief. Finn, however, didn’t seem to agree. Eyes stuck on the bared swath of skin, and a fresh wave of heat took his face. Ben frowned at the sight, and slipped back into Rey’s mind. 

_You’re upsetting him._

_Are you saying you believe me?_

He did, though more because Finn’s guard had slipped than anything. Ben could’ve interpreted his friend’s reactions as discomfort, if the thrum of want wasn’t now so clear. Finn’s fingers clenched his cup, and even if Ben shut his mind completely, it would’ve been impossible to mistake why.

_He’s our friend,_ he said, dodging the question. _Don’t be cruel._

_I’m not._ She settled back, taking up her cup again. _What about you? Do you think of him?_

He didn’t answer immediately, scenting for danger. _Is this a trap?_

_Just a question._

The two weren’t mutually exclusive, but he sensed no edge in her words. Her mind was as open as ever, and a quick skim of it turned up no double meaning.

_Sometimes_ , he admitted, relaxing back into her heat.

How could he not? Finn was lovely: virile and sharp. For all his sturdiness, however, he wasn’t harsh. He’d grown out his hair, worked it into twists that suited him better than the regulation buzz.His smile rarely faltered, and his warm eyes and sweet, plush mouth lent him the look of a friend. He was inviting, and handsome besides. 

Rey hummed, and Ben felt the telltale press of her in his mind. She was sweeping his thoughts, picking through for ones of Finn. He rolled his eyes, but allowed it. He hadn’t lied, and the answer didn’t seem to have upset her.

_I like him too,_ she said. _Do you trust me?_

A pointless question. _Yes._

_Good._ Taking a final sip, Rey put her glass on the floor. _I want to try something._

She receded, turning her attention to Finn. The man was squinting up at them again, suspicion peaked by their silence. When he made to question it, however, Rey cut ahead.

“Alright, Finn? You’re being quiet.”

“What?” The man shook himself, refocused. “Oh, yea. Fine.”

“Are you sure? You look tense.”

She punctuated that with a deep dig to Ben's shoulder. When he groaned, Finn lowered his gaze.

“Actually, do you--” He paused, biting his lip. “If you need time, I can, ah, take a walk.”

Ben didn't have to tilt back to guess Rey's expression. Her energy was swirling now, kicked into gear by the game, and in it he could sense the curve of her mouth.

“What? This?”

Another press, just below the crown of his spine. He made a noise, half laugh and half breathy moan, and pressed a thankful kiss to her thigh.

“It's not going anywhere. He’s just nice to touch.” She drummed his shoulder. “Do you want to try?”

It took both men a moment to register her meaning, but when they did, Ben felt the gravity in the room drop. _Try something_ , she'd said. He supposed it would've spoiled her fun to tell him what.

“What?” Finn asked, voice tight.

“Touching,” Rey clarified. “I've seen the way you look at him.”

The words were gentle, unassuming, but Finn flinched all the same. He looked caught out, and when he recovered enough to meet her gaze, his eyes were rimmed with barely checked panic.

“It's not an accusation,” she assured, pressing on quickly. “It’s an offer. I’ve felt what you want; heard it here.” She lifted her hand, gesturing to her temple. “You don’t have to, but if you want, I’d like you to try.”

Some of Finn’s nerves faded at that. Odd mood aside, Rey was a good friend, and had never given him cause to mistrust. His shoulders slumped, his eyes finally cutting away. He looked to Ben, and some of the banked heat stirred.

“Did you agree to this?”

He hadn’t exactly, but couldn’t deny the appeal of it now. He had thought of Finn: how those hands would feel on his face, or the press of the other man’s thighs. Finn would be taller if he mounted, and Ben would have to stretch for a kiss. If the other man allowed it. If he didn’t prefer to trap his prize, hold him down by the hair and ghost their lips, mixing breath until Ben snapped beneath the weight of need.

“Yes,” he said, the word coming weak.

Embarrassing, he thought, but Finn didn't seem to agree. His nose flared, and he considered only a moment longer.

“Ok,” he said, more to himself than either of them. “Give me a second.”

He set his glass aside and peeled off his coat, tossing it onto his cot. It seemed the heat had finally gotten to him, because he was bright with sweat beneath. His neck and arms shined, and Ben felt the momentary, mortifying urge-- but it passed, broken by Finn scrubbing his hands. A nervous tick, somewhere to channel his anticipation. Ben could feel the thrum of it from where he sat, and it made his throat ache.

Finn crawled over slowly, as though expecting to be told this was a trick. His suspicion still read clear, but was falling fast to something softer. He _wanted_ ; several things, and had for some time.They tumbled out in tangle as he approached, and Ben couldn’t help but pick them apart. The images were clear-- his own hair catching light, his angles in profile, the swell of muscles as he sparred-- and a single urge shot them through: to touch. His face, hair, chest. The whole pool of Finn’s thoughts seemed bent on it.

“What should I do?” he asked, coming to a halt at Ben’s side.

He wasn’t speaking to Ben, wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes were on Rey, who he’d marked as the leader. Ben didn’t mind. This was her game, and he’d ceded ground before.

“Come closer,” she hummed. “Straddle him.”

Finn’s throat bobbed, but he did as he was told. Swinging a leg, he came to balance over Ben’s thighs. Once centered he scooted up, hovering over the other man’s hips. After what Ben could only assume was a pointed look from Rey, he settled, careful of how he laid his weight.

“Good,” the woman said, adjusting her own position. 

She edged up and splayed her legs, pressing the covered heat of her cunt to Ben's back. He groaned for the warmth, wishing he could turn and tongue the seam. But he was trapped, pinned between her thighs and Finn’s. Like a bug, ready to be picked apart and studied. 

“Now what?”

“Touch him.” It must have sounded as unhelpful to Finn as it did to Ben, because the man’s brow quirked. “However you like,” she added. “He’ll let you. He likes to be good.” Her hand found his hair again and threaded near the roots. “Don’t you, Ben?”

He flushed, mortified to be so exposed. But he couldn’t deny it. He did like it, liked even more to be recognized for it, and Rey never failed there. She doled out praise generously when he relented, lavished him with reassuring strokes when he did as he was told. She made surrender intoxicating, and even now the tease of it quickened his pulse.

“Yes,” he said again, aware that he was beginning to repeat himself. “I will. I do.”

It wasn’t meant to sound so pleading, but the whine of it grated his ears. Pathetic, like a dog trained to bare its belly. If Finn agreed, however, it didn’t show. The man’s eyes darkened, and the anxious line of his mouth relaxed. He shushed Ben, laying on a hand to rub his flank.

“Easy,” Finn soothed, and Ben’s blush deepened. “You like that, huh? Being told.”

Ben huffed, averting his eyes. Really, why make him say it again? “Don’t twist the knife.”

Rey’s grip on his hair tightened and she gave a sharp, punishing tug. “Answer him.”

Her tone brooked no argument. He winced, waiting for the sting to subside before complying. 

“I like it,” he admitted, still not meeting the other man’s gaze.

Finn hummed, slowing his strokes. His fingers branched, teasing his ribs and hip. Ben shifted, striving not to press up. Finn’s balance could be easily thrown like this, and he didn’t want to buck him.

“I want you to stay still,” Finn muttered, tugging the thought loose like a string. “And keep your hands down. Can you do that?”

Ben nodded, and Rey’s fingers drew tight in warning. “I can,” he amended, and sighed gratefully when her grip relaxed.

“Good,” Finn said. His touch lingered on Ben’s hip, one finger pressing hard into the bone. Ben’s breath skittered, but he didn’t roll. “Very good.”

Ben bit off a whine, a fresh sting in his cheeks. Encouraged by the sound, Finn finally tore his eyes away. He turned to Rey again, seeking instruction, and the woman didn’t keep him waiting.

“Here,” she said, stroking Ben’s neck. “Where you can feel his skin. But please--” she paused, and her smirk was nearly an audible thing. “Take your time.”

Finn nodded, biting his lip, and began the slow march. Bringing his other hand up, he mapped the length of Ben’s sides, sweeping down again to settle on his hips. The man tensed, expecting Finn’s thumbs to dig into the bone. But they didn’t. They drew soft circles, rounding the tender points, and Ben wasn’t sure which was worse. He trembled, breathing sharply through his nose. He almost wished Finn would press, sink his thumbs in and bruise. It would cut the fog, at least, grant clarity that heat and tender touches had stripped. Finn denied him the relief, however, and teased the spots a while longer before moving on.

Flattening his palms, he brushed up Ben’s belly, enjoying the jump of muscle. It rucked up the tunic between them, revealing a swath of skin. It peaked over the waist of his pants, stark against the dark fabric. Finn’s attention snagged on it, and he wetted his lip.

“Can I?”

“Later,” Rey promised. “I don’t want you getting sidetracked.”

_Want._ It pulsed from her as clearly as Finn. She was enjoying this: the sounds and sight of them, pressed together. Small comfort. The field was far from level, but it quickened the drip of his lust to know she wasn’t unaffected.

Finn pouted, but didn’t object. Sparing the skin a final look, he returned his attention to Ben. He dug in the heels of his hands, kneading the hard stomach and chest. When he found Ben’s nipples, rising to peaks in spite of cover, he scraped over them with blunted nails. The tunic did little to mute the sensation and Ben gasped, hands making fists on the floor. Encouraged, Finn lingered, scraping and pinching until Ben’s head knocked back.

Rey didn’t let him rest. Taking him by the hair again, she straightened him up, pressing her lips to his ear.

“Didn’t he ask you to be still?” He nodded, tugging against her hold. “Then what do you say?”

“Sorry,” Ben muttered, color high on his cheeks.

Finn barely registered the apology. He was still toying with the nipples, tapping the sensitive buds, and Ben was grateful Rey hadn’t let him hike up the tunic.

“Feel good?” the man asked, smiling so sweetly that Ben could’ve reeled. Unfair, he thought, but he hummed his assent. 

Giving the nipples a last pinch, Finn brought his hands to rest on Ben’s shoulders. He squeezed, feeling out the edge of the man’s collar bone. Once found, he followed to where it peaked out from his tunic. Finn hesitated a moment before brushing bare skin, barely skimming on the way to the hollow of Ben’s throat. His thumb settled there, pressing in enough to ache. Ben drew a stilted breath, enjoying the constriction, and willed his hands to stay at his sides. He wanted to run his hands up Finn’s thighs, take his hips and tug him close. His knuckles ached for it, but he didn’t reach. Wouldn’t. Finn had asked, and besides: Rey’s hand still sat like a warning at his nape.

As if summoned by the thought, her voice pierced the fog. “How does he feel?”

Which of them was she asking? Ben couldn’t be sure. Thankfully, the other man spoke up.

“Warm,” Finn said. “And soft. I didn’t think--” 

He stroked the man’s neck tenderly, thumbing the line. When Finn brushed his adam’s apple Ben hummed, and felt it rumble back against him.

“Do you want to kiss him?”

Finn’s breath caught, and his hold tightened fractionally. “Yes.”

“Ask him.”

He didn’t immediately comply. He took a moment longer to stroke his throat, then weaved through Ben’s hair. Rey released her own hold, giving the man space, and settled on Ben’s back instead. She rubbed his spine, soothing as Finn’s fingers tangled and tugged. Distantly, he wished he’d been able to wash it first. It’d been days since his last shower, and it showed in the limpness hair.

But Finn didn’t seem to mind. He carded through the dirty locks almost reverently, savoring the drag before closing his fist. Ben winced, and the other man’s grip relaxed immediately. Mumbling an apology, his second pull was more gentle. Ben didn’t resist it. He followed Finn’s lead, tilting to look up at him. Close now, even more so than before. He must have scooted in while Ben was distracted, because their chests were nearly flush. 

“You doing alright?”

Ben felt the words before he heard them. The air in them broke against his cheeks. He could smell the wine on the other man’s breath, and the lingering sweetness of charred meat.

“Ben, did you hear me?”

He hummed, a little moony. He wanted to respond, to be good, but his tongue was lead behind his teeth. The heady pulse of Rey’s desire and Finn’s hands had tied it, and between them he felt drugged; helpless, though not unsafe. They were careful, pawed at him more like a pet than a conquest. And wasn’t that still fresh? To feel no rising panic, scent no danger.

Finn tugged again, angling to expose his pulse. It fluttered, and when the other man ducked to lav it, Ben cussed, felt it throb against the flat of Finn’s tongue. 

“Still with me?” Finn teased.

Ben huffed a laugh and, feeling some of his daring return, finally unfurled his fists. Finn hadn’t rescinded his order, but it was worth it to feel the man scramble for balance as he was dragged in by the hips. The angle wasn’t ideal; unprepared, Finn wasn’t able to keep his teeth from knocking Ben’s jaw. But the sting of it was quickly soothed, both by the brush of Finn’s dick against him, and Rey’s startled moan when they rocked back against her cunt.

“Don’t you have something else to ask me?”

Finn moaned, open mouthed against the hinge of the other man’s jaw. Ben shuddered, raised a hand to hold him in place, but Finn snatched it before he could latch. He pinned it between Rey’s legs, bringing the other up to join it. Crossing them at the wrist, he muttered for the woman to take over the hold. Once her fingers were locked, Finn braced on Ben’s shoulder and used his free hand to take the man’s chin.

“I told you to stay still,” he chided. “Did you forget?”

The man’s voice was low, thick with want and spit, and Ben felt the fight go out of him like a light. Relaxing into both Finn’s and Rey’s grip, he shook his head. Or rather, as much as Finn’s hold would allow.

“So what happened?”

Ben swallowed, answered honestly. “I wanted to touch you.”

Finn’s thumb climbed, rubbing along Ben’s pout.

“I know,” he said gently. “But you’ve got to ask for what you want.” He pressed in, testing the plush. “You understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben bleated, then felt a bright bloom of shame. An old response, and deeply coded; a relic of what now seemed another life. Rey rarely triggered it, by virtue, he guessed, of her sex. The tyrant shadows of his past weren’t cast by women. Men, however: the threat and girth and heat of them--

But it passed quickly, Finn as willing to gloss it over as Ben was desperate to forget it. He shushed the man beneath him then bent again, this time to peck his hair. Ben sighed, tilting into the kiss, and felt Finn smile against him.

“You’re doing good,” Finn assured.

He peppered Ben’s face with a few kisses, working down to the corner of his mouth. Ben parted his lips in invitation, and gave a frustrated whine when his chin was nipped instead. But he didn’t chase it or struggle against Rey, and that renewed submission was apparently what Finn had been waiting for. He brought their noses close, ghosting their lips, and Ben’s eyes fell shut. The anticipation was like a knife in his gut, and felt his mouth fall open again.

“You’re beautiful,” Finn whispered, and Ben choked on a moan. Rey echoed it, and when she rocked against his knuckles, Ben could feel wetness seeping through the fabric. “Can I kiss you?”

Ben whimpered, thought _please_ , or did he say it? Regardless, Finn didn’t ask again. Closing their distance, he pressed into Ben’s pliant mouth, swallowing a shock of sound. Ben angled into it, kissing the man’s full bottom lip before taking it between his teeth. He suckled, desperate for some semblance of advantage. Finn allowed it a moment, then worked his hand back into Ben’s hair and tugged, coaxing him to release. He let go with a _pop_ , panting against the sting. Finn used it, slipped his tongue between the parted lips and slid-- sloppily, obscenely-- over cheek and teeth, curling over Ben’s to tease it out. He took the bait, chasing the thick heat with his own tongue, and Finn caught it. Taking the muscle between his teeth, Finn licked and suckled, drawing out spit and sound until Ben trembled so violently that Rey had to cage him with her knees.

Finn let him rest then. He pulled back, kissing his flushed cheeks until his breath evened, then slotted their mouths together again. They moved more slowly this time, carefully tasting and exploring, working tongues and lips and teeth until Ben was dizzy with the need to touch. He could, he knew. Rey’s grip would be easy to slip, and hungrily as the other man was rocking, he doubted Finn would object. But he didn’t want to disobey again. Finn was being good to him, and so was Rey. Though her hands were occupied, she hadn’t left him cold. She’d slipped back into his mind at some point, started up a mindless string of filth that shattered his will. 

He tried to return the favor, to churn the coals of her lust. She was soaked; he could feel it, smell it, and his fingers ached to slick in it. But clothed as she was, he could only brush her with his knuckles. It wasn’t enough to bring her off, but she didn’t care. She whined sweetly, voice pitching over his and Finn’s, and rocked into the touch until the two men broke apart.

Finn pulled back first, taking greedy gulps of air, and steadied himself on Ben’s shoulders. His arms and thighs shook, and his swollen lips shined with spit; _beautiful._ He wanted to chase him, bump noses, beg for more. He wanted Finn’s mouth again, and to feel the hot pulse of his arousal on his belly.

Sensing the thought, Rey tightened her grip, a reminder of his promise to keep still. He pouted, but didn’t struggle. It was likely for the best. Finn’s eyes were clouded, and his proud face slack. He looked like he needed time, and Ben probably wasn’t much better. Resigning himself, he relaxed against the edge of the bed. Curling his fingers against Rey’s, he let himself enjoy the sight of Finn: trembling, towering, and hungry. It made him feel powerful, in spite of being pinned, and tightened the coil in his gut.

“Boys,” Rey said fondly after a while, and they both gave her their attention.

Her eyes were as dark as Finn’s, her chest rising and falling heavily in her shirt. There was a color in her cheeks that had little to do with heat or wine now, and her own lips bruised from where she’d bitten back mewls. Ben hummed happily at the sight. It was one he’d seen many times now, so often that he could picture it: her hair splayed, neck arched in a perfect, guttural moan, her sweet chest bouncing as she speared herself on his cock. She was thinking of that, too-- he could sense it-- but she was also thinking of Finn. How he’d looked, and how easily Ben had bent; what he’d would look like pressed naked between them. 

He shuddered, willing his head to clear. “May I have my hands?”

“Hm? Oh.” Rey shook herself, releasing his wrists. “Sorry. Do they hurt?”

They did, though he’d only noticed then. They’d done well distracting him, but now the ache of numbness was impossible to ignore. Grunting, he flexed his fingers, willing blood to flow. Spurred by the sound, Finn helped, taking his arms one at a time and lowering them to his side. He muttered apologies, massaging him through the sting of renewed circulation. When the pain subsided, Ben thanked him, and the man sat back on his heels.

None of them spoke for a while after that. Finn seemed to be gathering himself, evening out his breath and ignoring the strain of his cock. Ben did his best to mimic. He inhaled slowly, tamping down the hammer of his heart. It did little good. His blood still ran like fire, his pulse a painful throb between his thighs. His cock ached as though it were bruised, and he shifted, seeking relief. Noticing the movement, Rey finally breaking the silence.

“Does that hurt, too?”

He didn’t have to ask what _that_ was. Biting his lip, he lowered his gaze. She was determined to embarrass him, it seemed. 

“You know it does.”

The woman hummed. “Chin up. If you behave well enough--” She crooked her leg, bringing her foot to rest over the trapped line. She pressed her toes in, rubbing gently, and his breath stuttered. “Finn might give you what you want.”

She pulled back, leaving Ben to pant. After steadying himself, he craned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“Your tunic,” she said. “I promised he could take it off.” She looked to Finn then, head cocking curiously. “Are you still interested? Or should we send our boy to bed?”

_Our boy_. Ben’s throat tightened at the words. He didn’t know if she meant it-- if Finn would even want her to-- or if she was still playing the game. Whichever it was, it compounded his ache, and rekindled some of Finn’s banked heat.

“What?” the man asked, breathless. “Just leave him like that?”

Rey nodded. “He’d do it, if we asked: keep his hands above the blankets, force himself to sleep.” Ben groaned, the way they spoke of him-- as though he couldn’t hear, wasn’t even in the room-- making his mind glitch at the edge. “He’d be desperate by morning, but he’d be good.”

Finn licked his lips, and for a single, horrifying moment Ben thought he might do it: forbid him to touch, make him listen while he rubbed off, then go to sleep. The other man would dream deeply, wrung dry by his orgasm and wine. Ben, however, might not sleep at all. 

The fear faded quickly, however, because Finn’s attention was back on his belly. There was more of it out now, their frantic kissing having rucked Ben’s tunic up higher, and the other man’s eyes skimmed it hungrily.

“All the way off?” he asked. “Or am I just allowed to lift it?”

“All the way off,” Rey assured. “And when you’re tired of that, we can find something else of his for you to remove.”

Finn looked ready to argue that he couldn’t be bored, but thought better of it. Rocking back further on his heels, he gestured for the other man to lean up. Ben complied, pressing off the bed, and Finn pointed to his tunic.

“Off. Toss it anywhere.” The man smirked, showing teeth. “You won’t need it.”

Ben swallowed, throat bobbing hard, and nearly snapped the tunic’s lacing in his haste.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to save writing this follow up for later, but a friend convinced me not to leave them hanging. This part is shorter, but it's also entirely smut, so hopefully that's an even trade.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'm working on upcoming one-shots for this series as we speak, and I'm looking forward to hearing from y'all as we go.

Of all the ways Ben thought the night might go, this particular possibility-- pinned beneath Finn, tunics gone and slicking skin-- hadn’t occurred.

He had Rey to thank for that, he supposed. And he would, among other things. As Finn rocked, dragging out another pitiful moan, he counted down the list of the gifts the woman had given him. Finn’s mouth, for starts, and that was arguably his favorite. The man was skilled with it, and generous, following Rey’s lead to the sensitive points it’d have taken hours to find on his own. It had certainly taken the woman that long, though if she was jealous of the information, it didn’t show. She offered it freely, guiding Finn’s tongue to the crook of Ben’s shoulder, the hollow of his jaw, and the burning outer curve of his ear. 

He worked diligently, encouraged by the mewls of the man trapped beneath him. Trapped, Ben thought, in a more agreeable position than before. Once she’d worked them down to bare chests and feet, she’d given up her place on the bed. They’d clambered on, eager for relief from the hard floor, while Rey dragged a chair for herself to the head. Ben settled on his back, stretching out for the man above him. Finn hovered a moment, considering, then urged him to lean back up. He slipped a pillow under his head-- a tenderness so unexpected it made Ben’s throat ache--, then pressed him back down. Sure now of Ben’s comfort, he remounted, stance wide to accommodate his partner’s thick waist. 

Rey hummed, looking hungrily between them. “Lower,” she purred. “I want you to feel each other.” 

They’d felt plenty of each other already, Ben thought, a little defiant. At least Finn had. His own hands had been trapped for most of the evening, a trend Rey apparently intended to preserve. Sensing the uptick in his daring-- or perhaps only for the pleasure of seeing him pinned--, she patted the bed between them, calling for his hands. Ben complied, crossing his wrists above his head. Once her fingers were locked, she returned her attention to Finn.

“Lower,” she repeated, more forcefully.

Finn shook himself, tearing his attention from Rey’s grip. Bracing on the man’s belly he slid back, dragging his ass over the cock pinned beneath. Ben bit his lip, and thought yes, this was definitely better. The angle had been wrong before, and Finn too high. The hardness had felt good against his belly, but this--

He hissed as Finn’s hips hit home, finally slotting them together. Their pants were thick, and the sensation somewhat dulled; still, when Finn’s hips stuttered, he couldn’t help but moan. Blunted as it was, it felt good, and Ben lifted into it. The motion threw Finn’s balance, and he had to catch on his partner’s hips. His thumbs found the tender points, bruised a little from earlier attention. Ben bucked again, rolling into the ache, and cussed at the sound it milked from the other man.

“Easy,” Rey said, her free hand stroking Ben’s arm. “Don’t get ahead.”

He nodded and took a few centering breaths. Her game, he reminded himself. Besides, she hadn’t even asked them to take off their pants.

 _Who says I’m going to?_ she teased, voice like a bug in his ear.

_You wouldn’t._

_I might._ She licked her lips. _Actually, I think I will._

Ben felt the color mottling his chest. _That’s filthy. Our clothes--_

 _You have more_ , Rey interrupted. The stroke of her fingers turned biting, and she pinched the skin in warning. Ben winced, making Finn’s brow crease. If Rey noticed the expression, she didn’t acknowledge it. _Besides, I want to see it._

Ben’s blush deepened, imagining how they’d look. Bellies taut and flexing, slick with sweat; the wetness seeping through their pants mixing and working them raw. Who knew how long it’d take for them to finish like that, if they’d even be able to. The material was wicked, meant to withstand the elements. Heat transferred well enough, but that might be the extent of it. And how miserable would that be? The deep ache of denial blooming out, never quite reaching a crest. They’d be swollen, cocks as thick with blood as blisters and weeping, desperate for the touch of bare skin.

Rey must have been spying, because her breath hitched, and the grip on his wrists went white. At the sight of it, Finn’s brow scrunched again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Rey said, but quickly amended. “Ben was arguing, but he's finished now. Aren't you?”

She slipped her free hand into his hair and scrubbed his scalp, dipping into his mind one last time.

 _Try it, please?_ She lingered on the spot behind his ear, rubbing until he gave a small groan. _If you really can't finish, we’ll stop._

He was tempted to refuse, but didn't like the idea of stepping back from a challenge. Especially one so harmless. She wasn't cruel, wouldn't leave them both throbbing if they sincerely tried. Besides, Finn's hips had started back their shallow roll, sinking him back into a fog. They might could. Maybe. It wouldn't kill them to try.

Ben nodded, and Rey bent to reward him with a kiss. She teased his lower lip, swollen already from Finn’s affection. She gave a few pecks, coaxing him to open. When he relented, her attention sharpened. She took the tender flesh into her mouth, suckling and nipping to deepen the bruise. He whimpered, and she released him, soothing the sting with a few kittenish licks. 

“Kriff,” Finn cussed, a little breathless.

The man’s voice pulled the room back into focus, as did the renewed roll of his hips. The outline of their cocks ground together and Ben echoed the cuss, eyes screwing shut against pleasure. 

Rey bit her lip, muffling a contented sigh. 

“He likes this,” she said, speaking over him to Finn. “Rutting like teenagers, terrified of being caught.” Giving his arm a final squeeze, she slipped her other hand off the bed to fuss with the ties of her pants. “Do you like it?”

Finn nodded, scraping his nails along Ben’s waist. The man’s breath fluttered, half tickled, and he tried pressing into the touch. Finn’s weight kept him pinned, however, and his gasp rattled into a frustrated growl. His hands were warm and close, so _close_. If he would just pop the buttons, slip inside to pull him free-- Oh, Ben could picture it: Finn’s hand around them both, stroking and thumbing their swollen, blood-dark heads. It’d be filthy, the mix of precum and sweat a sticky slick between them. He wanted it, wanted to feel it, and spent his remaining will sending the image to Rey. 

The woman drew a sharp breath, and Ben felt the mattress between them give. Her free arm was pressed against it, shifting it as she moved, touching herself. He could imagine that, too, and his fingers ached to replace hers.

“Good,” Rey responded finally, voice pitching as her fingers worked. “Because that’s how you’re going to finish him.”

The other man’s throat worked. “Now?”

Rey nodded and the man kicked into gear. He didn’t seem to share his partner’s concern, because he didn’t ask to remove their pants, didn’t even seem aware of them now. He scrambled back, knocking Ben’s legs wide one knee. Once splayed, he straddled a leg, lifting the other by the back. Using his grip on Ben’s hip and thigh, he tugged the man close. It was sharp, and Rey momentarily lost her own hold. Not that it particularly mattered. Ben had no desire to escape, and any thought of retaliation for the work Finn had done broke when their hips cracked together. 

It was almost painful, given how hard he’d grown. But the angle was delicious, granted full contact, and at the press his vision flared white. His head rolled to the side and he spat a moan, dimly aware of Rey echoing it. She’d leaned down again, pinning him beneath her full weight, and mouthed along his jaw. He choked on sound, both from the kiss and the way her scent spiked as teased herself. The arm she’d slipped off the bed stuttered, knocking her shoulder against his own. Stilted rhythm, and frantic; he could almost feel how viciously her fingers pumped.

Spurred by the sight, Finn dove in, rocking hard against the man beneath him. Ben worked to meet it, lifting his hips to drag. His partner groaned, eyes going dark, then seized him by the hips. His thumbs dug into the bruising there and Ben gasped, going still.

“No moving, remember?”

He could’ve wept. Hadn’t they foregone that rule? Rey hadn’t given him his hands, but neither she or Finn had scolded him for rocking minutes before. Sensing his fight, Finn pressed on.

“You want to finish, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he whimpered, too miserably hard to be embarrassed. “Please.”

“Then be good for me. Can you do that?”

Ben nodded, muttering a senseless string of affirmations. He didn’t want the cutting edge, for Finn to finish and leave him cold. And he wouldn’t, surely. Not if he was good. 

Releasing his hips, the other man shushed him, rubbing up along his flank. Once Ben’s breath settled, Finn shifted to plant on either side of his neck. Finding his balance, his hips returned to their rhythm, effectively dragging Ben from his head.

Whether it was work of Rey’s mouth, Finn’s sweet, burning heat, or the fact that Ben had been picked at for hours, the edge came quicker than expected. Despite the dulling fabric, each brush of Finn’s cock wrung his gut, ticking up the hammer of his pulse. The leg Finn had lifted trembled, and the low dip of his belly clenched and ached. He bit his lip, tasting blood, and felt release curling at the root of his cock. His hips ached to buck, to slide the damp seat of his pants against Finn’s. But he wouldn’t; not now that the ledge was near. Finn had threatened-- obliquely, but a threat all the same-- and he wouldn’t risk it.

“Are you close?” Rey asked, startling Ben from his thoughts. He tilted back, dazed, and made to answer, but only groaned instead. The woman’s lips curled. “You are. I know that face.”

He flushed, but didn’t turn away when she reached for his face. She trailed her fingers down his cheek, over the plush curve of his mouth. Wetness trailed behind her, and he realized belatedly why. She’d finished, apparently, and the evidence still clung to her fingers. 

She dragged them over his lips and they parted to accept her. Rey pressed in, sliding back over his tongue, and he swallowed to draw her knuckle deep. His throat fluttered, startled by the intrusion, but he didn’t gag. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked her clean, tongue slicking between her fingers. She and Finn both whined, and when she withdrew the man dived to replace her. Keeping his crushing pace, he licked at the lingering trails of release. Ben moaned, open mouthed, and the man swallowed it, his own breath stuttering as he neared the edge.

“You too?” Rey asked. Her voice was thick now, almost sleepy, and the urgency in her grip was gone.

“Yes,” he gritted out. “Can I?”

Rey hummed, releasing Ben's wrists to stroke his face instead. Cupping his jaw to steady him, she used the other hand to swipe away hair clinging to his face.

“Yes,” she said, “but don’t leave our boy behind.” She bent low, pressed a kiss to Ben’s sweaty temple, and he groaned as if he’d been shot. “He’s earned it, don’t you think?”

Finn cussed, mumbled yes, then took up a punishing pace. Ben grunted at the clash, the ache of bruising at his hips mixing sweetly with the deep, gutting tug of impending release. He felt it pooling like lead at his seat, a roiling build of heat that sucked his strength. He felt dizzy and weak, helpless to school the violent trembling in his thighs. It would kill him, he thought with a shoot of panic. The threat alone had knocked the room out of focus, and as it ratcheted up--

Ben choked out a moan, tipping over the edge only a few thrusts later. Forgetting himself, he arced, pressed his throbbing cock hard against Finn's as the man frantically followed, letting the motion milk him through. The stickiness spread, fanning out hot and filthy; embarrassing. Or it would've been, if Finn weren't seconds behind. The other man growled through his own release, slowing the roll of his hips to ride it out. Ben could feel the growing patch if his partner's come, knew that if he looked down their pants would be ruined: blooms of wet spreading from their trapped, tender heads, and smears of each other's leak in erratic streaks. 

But he didn't look; couldn't muster the will to. He laid beneath the other man, panting and weary, riding the last, blissful wave of his orgasm. Finn collapsed seconds later, falling heavily on to his chest. Ben grunted, but didn't push him aside. Turning his head, he mouthed happily at what he could reach of the other's shoulder, finally daring to move his hands. Though Rey didn't stop him-- wasn't even at the bed anymore, Ben noted. She'd risen from her seat to rummage through their bags-- it still took several long seconds. His arms had numbed again, and were slow to respond. He wiggled his fingers, willing the tingle to die, then forced them to wrap Finn's waist. 

The man hummed, nuzzling deeper into Ben's neck.

“Am I crushing you?”

He wasn't. Finn was a pleasant weight, and Ben tightened his grip, unwilling to give it just yet. They laid like that, breath heavy and release cooling tackily between them for several minutes; long enough for Ben to start when Rey returned to brush a hand over his.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “You need to change.”

He grunted, but knew she was right. They'd be raw in the morning if they didn't change now. A wash would be best, but that could wait until they boarded. This couldn't.

Nudging Finn, he rolled the man aside and reached over him for the clothes Rey offered. The other followed suit, and while they struggled to change Rey busied herself with the other cot. She gave it an experimental tug then, finding it gave easily, dragged it from the wall to bump sides with its twin. Once changed, Finn made to roll into it, but Rey halted him with a hand to the chest.

“Stay,” she said, crawling onto the cot herself. “I'll take this.”

Finn looked between her and Ben, momentarily unsure. When neither spoke against him staying, however, he settled back. Rey slotted in as close as the dip between beds would allow, draping an arm over the man's bare chest. Ben followed suit. He pressed fully against the man between them, locking a leg with his and laying a hand over Rey's on his chest.

The man stiffened, still uncertain of his place between them. As Rey's breaths evened out to, however, and her palm eased to a relaxed curl, he sighed, settling more comfortably into the bed.

“Thought she'd kick me out, honestly,” he whispered, turning to look at Ben.

“She wouldn't,” he assured, mouth opening on a yawn. “She likes you.”

“Do you?”

Pointless question. “You know I do.”

“No, I mean--” He paused, and Ben could almost hear him chewing his lip. “Like you like Rey.”

 _Ah._ Ben thumbed the man's chest, rubbing careful circles. He was slick with sweat still, and beneath the muscle Ben could feel the anxious pattern of his heart. 

“Yes,” he said finally, tilting to kiss the line of his jaw. 

Finn exhaled a laugh. “Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “Me too.”

Ben felt a curl of warmth, and he wished Rey were still awake to share it.

“Sleep,” he said, nosing the man’s jaw again. “She’ll want us up early.”

Mumbling his agreement, Finn turned his head aside, giving better access to his throat. Ben took it, burying his face in the warmth, and closed his eyes. He focused on Rey’s breathing and the steady, strong beat of Finn’s heart, letting them both ease him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just filth, honestly. Filth with a hint of feelings.


End file.
